


Bullet + Pocketknife

by tommino



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, Hurt!Mac, No Gore because its an audio call only, Phone Call, Stranded, Whump, bulletwound, removing a bullet, which means maximum Lucas Till Sounds of Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-05-03 17:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14573853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommino/pseuds/tommino
Summary: Mac is stranded in the woods with a bullet stuck in his leg, so he calls the team.A Phoenix doctor can walk him through performing minor surgery on himself, but that means Jack and the others have to listen in as Mac digs out a bullet - armed only with his pocketknife and meager supplies.---Prompt from WolfyPuppyPiles!! (and GeminiDayDreamer too)





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worked so hard on this to try and do it justice!! Thank you [WolfyPuppyPiles](http://wolfypuppypiles.tumblr.com) for sharing your awesome idea from [this post](https://geminidaydreamer.tumblr.com/post/171403007591/title-camera-pocketknife#notes). Also thank you [GeminiDayDreamer](https://geminidaydreamer.tumblr.com) for the heart-wrenching suggestion to make this an audio story instead of a video call.
> 
> It was such a fun challenge to write agony using only sound...

.

 

.

 

The phone call comes through while Jack is arguing with Matty.

 

Phoenix command had hastily set up in a cabin near the spoiled operation, and now the director _wasn’t_ _listening to him_. Mac had gotten separated from the rest of the team during the ambush, and clearly their first priority needed to be going back out there to find him.

 

Matty stands her ground. “Jack, you can’t just charge back into the woods and expect to find him! Plus there are still plenty of armed combatants combing the area. Or have you forgotten that little detail?”

 

“I dodged enough lead during our escape to have a damn good memory of that fact, yeah,” Jack snarks back. “And that’s all the more reason we should be out there right now to go get him - not cooped up in this glorified shed talkin’ about it!”

 

Riley tentatively enters the room, Bozer in tow with a sling around his arm. Her voice is hesitant but measured. “An organized search pattern is the best way for us to look for him. We’re talking about acres of forest here, Jack.”

 

“Thank you,” Matty says, inclining her head. “The rest of us want to recover MacGyver just as much as you do. The three of you barely made it out of the compromised drop point yourselves, but Mac is a resourceful person. We just need to keep our heads. Now if-”

 

She’s interrupted by the blare of Jack’s cell phone. The sound of Metallica grows louder as he fishes the device out of his pocket, a familiar face on the caller ID. The agent scrambles to answer the call.

 

“Mac! Talk to me buddy.” There’s a burst of static, but the connection clears enough for them to hear the strained voice on the line.

 

“Hey Jack. Glad I didn’t go to voicemail.” Mac sounds rough, but at least he’s talking.

 

The rest of the team crowds around the cell phone, asking where he is, if he’s okay. Mac huffs out a laugh at the pandemonium, cutting off with a slight groan.

 

“Well I'm still in the forest, just not quite sure… where,” he says. “It didn’t take long to ditch the two guys that came after me, but my phone and comm unit got pretty banged up during our botched landing. I only just managed to get it transmitting now.” His next thought is for the team, of course. “Did everyone else make it out of the dropzone okay?”

 

“Boze got a little scuffed up, but the medical team says his shoulder shouldn’t be worse than some bruising at the joint,” Riley answers. She glances over, and Bozer gives her a reassuring smile.

 

“Where are you now, man?” Bozer asks. “Can we pull some coordinates off your phone?”

 

“It's not quite that easy,” Mac admits. “Fortunately we all survived the ambush, but my GPS chip wasn’t so lucky. I’ll need to climb a tree to get some idea of where I am.” He sounds oddly reluctant.

 

“Alright then. Up ya go,” Jack says. “Just give us an approximate location and I’ll be right there to get you.”

 

“Yeah well, that’s the problem,” Mac says, hesitating. “I’m kinda… uh, shot.”

 

Jack feels his heart drop to his toes. The rest of the team reacts in much the same manner, echoing sounds of shock and concern.

 

“Shit, kid, why didn’t you lead with that??” Jack’s mind jumps to the worst, imagining his partner slumped against a tree with a hole in his gut. What if he’s bleeding heavily from a head injury, or struggling to breathe after-

 

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” Mac rushes to reassure them. But it wouldn't be the first time he's made false promises about his health. _Oh y’know, just a minor case of bulletwound, nothing to worry about._ Jack might roll his eyes if he wasn’t so damn scared.

 

“One of them landed a hit near my knee, a lucky shot if anything. It’s a flesh wound, I swear,” their missing agent promises. “But the bullet is still in there and I… I can’t really climb until it’s out.” His voice catches slightly.

 

_Because it hurts._ Mac doesn't want to say it, but Jack has seen the kid power through all manner of pain. If he can't do it now, that means there's one hell of a bullet lodged in his leg, grinding against the wound every time he tries to move...

 

Matty mutters something profane, and grabs her radio. “I need medical staff in command room Alpha. Make it quick.”

 

“What are we gonna do?” Bozer asks, not understanding the sudden flurry of activity. Jack grimaces as their boss explains.

 

“He’s going to have to take the bullet out.” Matty’s voice is tense. “Riley, get the audio on room speakers and see what you can do to stabilize the phone connection. I'll fill in the medical staff. Jack, Bozer… Keep him talking.”

 

There’s a knock at the door, and Matty waves the doctor in to start explaining the situation. Jack recognizes her - Dr. Angela Bayall, he thinks. She’s been on the medical team for a while now; patched up Jack and his partner more times than he can remember. She should be fine to talk Mac through this.

 

Riley takes the cell phone from Jack, nearly having to pry it out of his hand before he realizes and lets go. His knuckles ache when he finally releases his grip.

 

“You sure you don't see anything around you on ground level?” Boxer says. “Any landscape jump out at you at all?”

 

Mac's answer comes through the room speakers, clearer now that Riley has tweaked something on the receiving line. The new sound quality only highlights the constriction in Mac's voice.

 

“Well I managed to lose our welcome party by wading upstream, then found an old fishing shed on the river. There were some bits of gear left inside but it doesn't look like anyone's come through in a long while.”

 

Jack glances up to see Riley already loading a map of the wilderness preserve on the main screen. Countless river branches crisscross the terrain, and half the fishing outposts probably never made it onto the map. They need more info than that.

 

Fortunately Bozer doesn't miss a beat. “What kind of gear did you find? I bet you can make a flare gun out of fly lures.”

 

Mac chuckles and shifts carefully amid the leaves. “I didn't even get that lucky. Just some fishing line, a tin cup, and an old hook. I used some of the line on the phone actually, the clear filament let me-”

 

He must move something the wrong way, because the agent cuts off with a sharp inhale. Jack wonders how long Mac kept running after he took the shot.

 

Matty returns to the front of the room and gestures the doctor to step forward.

 

“Hey Blondie, it’s Angela. How we doing?” Dr. Bayall keeps her greeting casual, trying to keep some weight off the tenuous situation.

 

“About as well as usual, Angie,” MacGyver says with wry resignation. “But I’ll manage. Glad to have your help.”

 

“I can’t say that I’m excited about the prospect of you performing surgery in the middle of the woods, but it sounds like we don’t have much of a choice,” the doctor answers. “Let’s not waste any daylight.”

 

Mac rattles off the short list of the supplies he’s gathered together. “It’s not much of a first aid kit, but it’s better than nothing. And I have my... pocketknife.”

 

Jack can’t help but notice the way Riley winces at the stark reminder of how this whole thing will go down. Mac alone in the woods, digging bullet fragments out of his leg with a Swiss army knife. The tension between Jack's shoulder blades increases yet again.

 

“Is there any way you can get a video stream going, Mac?” Matty asks. “It would be a lot more helpful if Dr. Bayall could see the wound.”

 

“Sorry Matty, but it’s all I could do to get an audio signal running.”

 

Angela grimaces, and her tone drops to seriousness. “Alright then Agent MacGyver, I’m going to need you to be extremely thorough when you’re describing this to me.” She stresses each word as if trying to get her patient to understand their importance. “I cannot advise you properly if you leave me blind.”

 

Jack huffs. Yeah this doctor has certainly worked with Mac before.

 

“You hear that, kid?” he calls. “We know you have a habit to downplay, but this ain't the time.”

 

The line is silent for a moment before Mac speaks up again, the younger agent sounding unsure for the first time since the call started.

 

“I, uh… I’m not positive you guys will want to sit in on this,” he says hesitantly.

 

Jack doesn’t even need to consider. “I’m not going anywhere, Mac. Now tell the doctor where it hurts.” He turns to check on Riley and Bozer. The two nod affirmation, eyes wide but determined.

 

“We’re right here with you, buddy,” Bozer says. Their little team is nothing if not loyal.

 

Dr. Bayall puts a hand to her forehead in concentration. “Alright, let’s go through a physical assessment. Describe the entry point and the state of any foreign materials please.”

 

They hear a crinkle as Mac positions the phone on a nearby surface, then repositions with a slight groan. “Yeah, entry point is back of the leg, impact near the side of the joint. Kneecap’s alright, but the bullet definitely fragmented.”

 

_Entry point is back of the leg._ Those fuckers must have shot Mac as he ran. Jack’s jaw clenches painfully as he aches to get his hands on the cowards.

 

The blonde continues. “I can see um, about three pieces under my skin and then f-feel one more when I bend the leg.”

 

“Let’s not bend it any more than you need to. Unnecessary pressure can drive the pieces even deeper. It’s bad enough you’ve walked on it...” the doctor muses. “Any abnormal swelling or redness?”

 

Mac chuckles humorlessly. “Oh there’s plenty of _redness_ alright, and it’s starting to pool in my boot. I figure I should tourniquet this before I start?” The doctor agrees, and they hear the sound of ripping fabric. “...didn’t need that pant leg anyway,” Mac mutters.

 

“How big is your pocketknife blade?” Angela asks. “Do you have any way to sterilize it?”

 

“About three inches, and did you know that recent studies have found trace antibacterial properties in oak wood?”

 

No one in the room looks reassured by this knowledge, but the doctor continues anyway.

 

"Alright, we'll begin with the pieces you can see under your skin. You're going to make a small horizontal incision directly below the bump of the fragment.” Her next advice is gentler. “Start shallow - you just need to get through a few layers of epidermis.”

 

Mac’s pocketknife clicks open, and they hear a resigned inhale as the agent gets ready to start.

 

Silence, and then a sharp hiss filters over the line. Jack curses quietly and starts pacing. He doesn’t want to listen, but without anything else to go on, he’s desperate for information on how Mac’s doing.

 

“O-okay, I can see the edge of one piece. Wound’s bleeding pretty heavily, but I think this is just a casing. I don’t… _aah,_ I can’t grab it but...” Mac’s voice is impressively steady, considering the circumstances. “My pocketknife has pliers.”

 

“That'll work. Use your free hand to pinch the skin at the sides of the fragment very carefully,” Angela says. “You need to apply forward pressure, but not so much that the metal widens the wound any further while you draw it out.”

 

“Go slow. Got it, Mac?” Matty’s concern belies what would otherwise be a firm order.

 

He doesn’t answer, and Jack hears a drawn out rush of air as the younger agent carefully pulls the first fragment out of his skin.

 

“Ow. First piece out.” They hear a soft clink as the bullet is dropped into the metal cup. Mac exhales wearily and takes a few deep breaths. “I am really not looking forward to doing this another two times.” He doesn’t even mention the shard buried deeper.

 

“Take as long as you need, Mac. Don’t rush this,” Riley says weakly. But they all know that the longer it takes to get the missing agent’s location, the more likely it is that he’ll be discovered by the enemy.

 

“Thanks, Riles. I got this.” Mac repeats the process again for the next fragment; Dr. Bayall offering quiet encouragement between the stifled groans that come over the line.

 

He’s been quiet for the most part, only the occasional hiss or gasp of pain that grates on the inside of Jack’s chest. But every time the team checks in, the injured agent’s response sounds more shaken. Jack wonders whether Mac chose to start with the easier pieces.

 

Another quiet clink signals the recovery of the second piece. Halfway there.

 

Too wound up from pacing, Jack drops into a seat beside Bozer. The other agent looks ill, clearly rattled at hearing his best friend suffer like this. Jack knows all too well how both the boys share a sense of empathy that makes it impossible to sit back and do nothing. But that’s exactly all the team can do right now: do nothing and listen.

 

Then, as Mac tries to start on the third fragment, a new noise filters over the line. It’s soft, and probably accidental, but heartrending all the same.

 

A whimper.

 

Riley presses a hand to her mouth, and Jack is on his feet again. His body is hardwired to react to the sounds of Mac in pain - but with nothing to do, his muscles can only strain against his own skin. Jack is left clenching and unclenching his fists helplessly.

 

Mac lets outs a frustrated curse, and the pocketknife clatters as he hastily sets it down on a rock. The younger agent must stop just to breathe for a few moments, probably curled over the wound as he tries to collect himself.

 

“This is a shit plan,” Jack starts. “We can’t expect the kid to… to _operate_ on himself for crying out loud. There has to be another way - can’t you pull over some satellites or something?”

 

“Not unless we want to start an international incident,” Matty counters. “And while I would actually consider it at this point, that’s not how satellites work. Riley?”

 

“I tried but Mac is right, the GPS chip is fried.” She sounds guilty, and Jack bottles his frustration long enough to put a consoling hand on her shoulder. “He’s the only one who can get us more information on his location.”

 

“...Mac?” Bozer says carefully. It’s only then that they realize the injured agent has fallen silent. Frustration shifts into concern once again.

 

They hear Mac pull in a rattling breath, seeming to steel himself before going back to work at removing the third shard. Jack starts to argue again, but his partner cuts him off.

 

“No, no I can do this.” He grits his teeth, voice wavering slightly through the pain. “C’mon,” he mutters with a groan. Jack imagines he can hear the creak of the small pliers, dug into Mac’s leg.

 

The next thing they hear is a fragment clinking into the tin. _Holy shit he did it,_ Jack thinks as Matty lets out a relieved sigh. Riley’s shoulders slump, and Bozer stands to pull her into a gentle embrace, drawn expression releasing slightly at Mac’s success.

 

“That’s all of the subdermal fragments, right?” Angela confirms gingerly.

 

“Yeah, I’ve got three pieces here.” Mac shakes the container slightly, bullet casings rattling inside. “That just leaves… the last shard. It’s is too deep to see, but I can certainly feel it in there somewhere.”

 

Their celebration is cut short at the reminder of that final piece. This one is likely to be the worst yet, if it’s buried far enough that Mac can’t even locate it.

 

“Don’t suppose you could build yourself a CAT scanner, could you?” Riley asks lightly. Jack looks over, and her face doesn’t quite match the casual tone of her voice. He realizes she’s trying to lighten Mac’s mood, keep him from tensing up.

 

Jack appreciates the effort when MacGyver laughs weakly. “Hah, that’s pretty unlikely. Although, I _could_ build one. Hypothetically.”

 

The blonde is rambling, but maybe the distraction is good for him. Problem solving has always kept Mac anchored. “I just don’t think I’m gonna find an x-ray tube or a lead sheet out here in the woods, Riles. Maybe if I could vacuum seal a glass bottle...”

 

The doctor purses her lips as he trails off, clearly dissatisfied with their limited realistic options. “You’re going to have to follow the path of the entry wound in order to find the fragment. I know I told you earlier that widening the wounds was bad, but in this case it’s going to be your first step. You need to cut toward the outside of your leg, as evenly as pos-”

 

“Hold up, you’re telling him to make the hole bigger??” Jack challenges. “Now maybe I missed this part of med school, but ain’t making an injury worse the exact _opposite_ of what doctors wanna do?”

 

“Normally yes,” Dr. Bayall says. “But MacGyver doesn’t have forceps or even a retractor to hold the wound open. When a bullet enters your skin at high speeds, the flesh closes back around the impact point.”

 

“I need to lower pressure on the bullet so it’s easier to move it out of where it’s wedged in my leg,” Mac finishes passively.

 

“Exactly.” Angela looks to Jack apologetically, then continues speaking to Mac. “Normally I would tell you to go slow and steady when you cut through the surrounding tissue, but without anesthesia… this might be something you’ll want to get over with quickly.”

 

The line is quiet, and the team barely moves to breathe under the tension. It’s not fair, none of it is, that Mac should be left out in the field alone while they have to sit here and listen.

 

Listen to the kindest person they’ve ever known carve into his own leg... all because Jack left him behind. He got Riley and Bozer out in one piece, but he never should have taken his eyes off his partner. No matter the chaos, no matter the danger.

 

The sound of rustling fabric drifts over the speakers. When they ask what he’s doing, Mac just mumbles something about needing his belt.

 

“We’re right here Mac, you can do this,” Bozer says faithfully.

 

The silence that follows is crushing, Jack’s pulse hammering against his chest in anticipation. Waiting is, as always, the worst part. He feels ready to vibrate out of his skin, seconds away from telling Mac to stop, call it off, we’ll find another way. They can’t actually expect him to-

 

A sharp cry rips through the phone line.

 

Jack flinches violently, even as Mac bundles the sound down into a tight groan. Heaving breaths fill the empty phone line as he recovers from what can only be white hot agony. Riley buries her face into Boze’s uninjured shoulder, and Jack’s stomach twists like he might be sick.

 

He must keep cutting, because another choked-off scream fills the air. It's hoarse and fraying at the edges - but seems muffled, voice stifled as if… as if Mac were biting down on something.

 

The next groan buzzes against what sounds like leather.

 

His belt. Shit. Shit shit shit.

 

_“Mac,_ Mac I’m so sorry,” Jack pleads, imagining his partner hunched protectively over the wound, leather clenched between his lips and fingers slippery with blood. Alone but for voices through the phone. Wet gasps are his only answer on the other end, the younger agent trying to catch his breath. A hitched whimper spills over Mac’s belt as he digs into the wound again to look for the bullet.

 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Jack tries to soothe. “Work through it, now. Deep breaths kid.”

 

“I found... the last p-piece, but I can’t get it. I can’t get it out.” Mac’s voice slides toward panic. “Jack… I don’t think I can...”

 

The doctor speaks up. “MacGyver you need to calm down. Now that you know where the fragment is, you can push from behind and slide it up the flat side of the blade.”

 

“I’m-I’m trying but it’s not…” Frustration and pain thread together dangerously, and Mac is overwhelmed, breaths coming too quick.

 

“Easy there, you’re alright now,” Jack says. “Don’t lose your focus, right? No one is better at keeping a level head and getting the job done.”

 

“It _hurts,_ Jack.” The younger agent’s voice finally breaks, and Jack’s heart shatters with it.

 

“I know, Mac, I know it does. I can only imagine how bad it hurts,” Jack says. Riley’s hand finds his own, the hacker’s nimble fingers squeezing tight as he keeps going. “But I need you to get this piece out so you can tell me where you are. Just a little more, and then I’ll be there to get you, I promise.”

 

Mac lets out another groan, and then, finally...

 

_Clink._

 

The exhausted breath of relief from Mac is echoed by the team in the command room, all of them desperate for this ordeal to end.

 

But he’s not done yet.

 

.

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next chapter: Stitching the wound.**  
>  Do you think Mac would shed some tears? He’s been through a lot here… Suggestions super welcome!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were a number of kind comments about the research that must have gone into this fic, and I feel obligated to clarify: This story takes _the most absurd_ liberties with medical reality. There’s no need to remove a bullet, this wound shouldn’t have been stitched, and for the love of god don’t ever attempt to climb a tree after doing all this hahaha. 
> 
> Sorry Mac.

.

 

.

 

Mac is still panting, lungs slow to recover after digging the last piece of bullet out of his leg. The stranded agent is bleeding and hurting and no doubt desperate to come home.

 

On the other side of the phone line, the team is barely holding together. Riley has a hand pressed to her lips, muffling the tears that threatened to spill over during Mac’s hoarse cries of pain. Jack can feel his blood pressure increasing by the second, the walls of the cabin’s command room squeezing around him, and even Matty is showing signs of stress under her steel composure.

 

“That was the last piece, right?” Bozer asks quietly. “He… he’s done now, isn’t he? Mac can climb up and tell us where to go get him.”

 

Dr. Bayall grimaces. “Not yet. How bad is the bleeding, Mac?” No response.

 

“Blondie? You okay there?” Matty asks, quicker than she would normally chime in.

 

“Yeah, yeah just give me a second. I’m trying not to pass out,” Mac says. “Or throw up. Not sure which of the two is winning.”

 

The director winces, and they hear fabric rustling as he presses something against the wound. Mac’s voice is shaky when he answers the doctor. “The tourniquet helped but it wasn’t exactly a clean extraction. I’m g-gonna have to stitch it, aren’t I?”

 

Jack lets out a curse. He had hoped they could just pack and badange it, but if the kid needs to climb a tree…

 

“I’m sorry MacGyver but if your leg is still bleeding despite pressure, you’ll need to suture that last incision.” Dr. Bayall really does sound sorry. “Every minute you leave it open increases your chance of infection.”

 

“Well. I have a fish hook,” Mac says. Coming from anyone else, the statement would have fallen flat, smothered in discouragement. But in MacGyver’s voice, it sounds like potential. Like a plan. “I flattened the barb and loop before we started. This… this isn't that bad, as far as improvised medical equipment goes, right?”

 

The team doesn’t interrupt. Mac’s talking himself through the preparations, trying to calm down before he starts the next horrible part of this process. “A curved needle is good for sutures, so that’s similar enough to usual. Th-the fishing line is a new one though.”

 

Mac and Jack have given each other their fair share of field stitches, but that was always with the comfort of another hand to squeeze. Mac will have to do this himself - without the shared bottle of whiskey that Jack would always manage to scrounge up in these situations.

 

Mac pulls in a few deep breaths and then sets himself to task.

 

“Remember that gnarly gash you patched up on my side in Bolivia?” Jack says, trying to offer a distraction. Although he can’t be there beside his partner, there’s no way he’ll let the younger agent feel like he’s alone. “Your needlepoint has always been better than mine anyways.”

 

The first stitch is punctuated by a sharp hiss of pain, then a murmured profanity as Mac pulls the line tight. He pauses, voice labored. “Yeah I’m... not gonna win any embroidery contests for this one, Jack.”

 

“With a puncture this deep, you’ll want to use a vertical mattress stitch and tie off each pass,” the doctor reminds. “If you knot each suture individually, they aren’t dependent on each other to hold.”

 

“I... I can’t,” Mac admits with a shaky breath.

 

Jack’s brows furrow in concern. The instructions require a bit of precision, sure, but it’s hardly a complicated request. Before he can ask, the stranded agent explains. “My hands are sh-shaking too bad. I won’t be able to tie knots like that.”

 

He's shaking. A new panic occurs to Jack, and Matty must realize the same thing. “MacGyver, you need to tell us if you think you’re going into shock. How much blood have you lost?” she asks.

 

The blonde makes a noncommittal noise at the phone. Not a good answer.

 

“He needs to keep himself warm, maybe lie down if there’s a chance he’s approaching hypovolemic,” Dr. Bayall says, sounding nervous at Mac’s ability to diagnose himself. That’s the last thing they need - their bleeding agent slumping over in the middle of the woods without warning.

 

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Mac mutters, sounding woozy now that Jack is listening for it. “I have a fire started, I’ll sit there when- when I’m done.” He hisses again, starting another stitch.

 

“You stopped to build a campfire before calling us??” Riley asks.

 

That information catches Bozer’s attention. “Hang on, can’t he just send up some smoke signals instead of all this?”

 

“Not unless he wants every bad guy in the woods to come running as well,” Matty answers. Jack is glad she leaves the rest of the thought unspoken: _That’s also why Mac is trying so hard to keep quiet._

 

“I needed the heat,” the blonde says, words drifting out like an afterthought as he tries to focus his groggy attention on the stitching. “To disinfect the fishhook and to boil some water. Plus I figured...” His voice stutters. “That I might need to cauterize my leg if I couldn’t get the bullet out on my first few tries.”

 

Mac tightens the fishing line with a grunt, followed by a frustrated groan when something doesn’t work right with needle. “I gave fixing the phone one more shot. Before it came t-to that.”

 

 _Goddammit._ Jack scrubs a hand over his face. He thinks of Mac quietly crafting a fire as he bleeds out, planning to seal himself shut with the flame if needed. It’s been agony listening to the younger agent, yet Jack finds himself newly grateful for the phone line if it meant avoiding cauterization.

 

“But if I can’t get these st-stitches right... I’m going to have to do that anyway,” Mac says, distress creeping into his voice again as he tugs at line. “There’s just so much- so much blood in the way! I can’t get a good grip, everything is slippery, and I have to go so d-deep each stitch that it-” He starts on another suture, but cuts off with a jolting sob.

 

Mac’s voice gets small. “Guys, I… I don’t know if I can do this.”

 

All eyes in the room turn to Jack, surprise clear in their expressions. From the look on Riley and Bozer’s faces… they’ve probably never heard Mac say those words before. With the blonde agent, there’s always a way, always another option. He’s constantly throwing himself against the impossible without a second glance.

 

For the first time in a long while, Jack is reminded just how _young_ his partner is. The kid sounds so unbearably tired, probably drifting to the wrong side of delirious at this point.

 

And although the whole team is here to support him… they know that Jack is the only one who can talk Mac through this.

 

He steels himself to speak, patient and encouraging like he can only manage in the most dire of circumstances.

 

“Now look - you’ve already done more than anyone could have expected, Mac.” Jack hears a crinkle of leaves as his partner curls himself in around his wound. “And you might think you’ve reached your limit, but I need you to trust me on this one, okay? I _know_ you can keep going.”

 

The room and the phone line remain silent. Jack takes a deep breath, trying to summon every ounce of confidence he has when it comes to the other agent. “You’re almost through it, brother. And no amount of stitches is gonna keep Angus MacGyver from coming home, y’hear?”

 

“... I hear you,” comes the tentative reply, conviction growing.

 

Jack nods sharply, even though the younger agent can’t see him. “Atta boy.”

 

“I’m coming home.” Mac grabs onto the words, repeating them as if to convince himself of their truth. “I’m almost through it.” And he must start pushing the needle through his flesh again, because the next sound they hear is Mac biting down on a keening whine.

 

His voice is wobbly when he addresses the rest of the team, but the sincerity in his words isn’t lost. “Th-thanks for sticking with me, everyone.”

 

 _“Of course,”_ his team answers.

 

Mac sniffles, fabric rustling as he swipes at his face. _Is he crying, knowing we can’t see?_ Jack feels his heart break anew.

 

He’s so proud of Mac, unsurprised by the grit his partner shows even in such a bleak situation. The older agent had meant every word he said - Mac is forever stronger than he thinks. He’ll get through this, and then Jack will be there soon to bring him home.

 

As Mac keeps stitching himself up, his best friend offers to tell him a story.

 

“...That’d be great, Boze.”

 

So Bozer goes on about some screenplay, a new project in the works with special effects that will go above and beyond now that he has lab training from Phoenix. He talks about the main character improvising some absurd solution, describing the plot even through the occasional sounds of pain from Mac.

 

At one point, the phone line carries a groan that catches in the injured agent’s throat. Bozer’s voice falters, but then he keeps going, talking through his stumble. Mac “hmms” along to the next plot twist, clearly still grateful for the distraction, and Riley nods encouragingly for her teammate to continue. She twines her fingers into one of Bozer’s shaking hands, squeezing as if she can share strength between them.

 

Jack’s proud of them all, really.

 

.

 

.

 

When Mac ties off the last stitch, the doctor asks him a few cognition questions. She’s reluctant to let her patient move around after losing this much blood, nevermind try climbing a tree. But MacGyver sounds stable enough, and the longer they wait, the worse off he’ll be.

 

If Jack thought hearing the bullet removal was difficult, it’s nothing compared to having to listen Mac put down the phone and limp away. But he needs both hands for the climb, and can’t risk dropping their one line of communication.

 

They hear Mac dig his boots in with a crunch, hefting himself up with his arms. Tree limbs groan ominously with each step and Jack is on the edge of his seat with worry, terrified that the younger agent’s strength will give out at the last minute. If Mac falls now, if he injures himself to the point that he can’t climb… There’s no way they’ll find their missing agent before the rapidly approaching nightfall.

 

The abandoned phone picks up the sound of rustling, the dry branches creaking when he goes higher. For a moment, the forest is calm.

 

And then there’s a SNAP, a sudden avalanche of crackling twigs and debris as Mac skids down the bark with a shout of pain. Bits of the tree clatter to the ground beneath him.

 

The whole team jolts in shock - but they don’t hear a thud. Just a heave of breath and a muttered curse as Mac untangles himself to keep climbing. The blonde must have caught a new hold halfway through the frantic slide. Jack’s palms ache in sympathy, imagining how rough the bark and splinters must be with only one leg to support him.

 

Now, everyone in the room holds their breath to keep the silence. They’re listening, waiting for the resounding crack of another branch giving way underfoot or for the plummeting thump of Mac losing his grip.

 

Jack can’t track how long they wait.

 

Finally, the team can make out the soft crunch of pine needles and underbrush, stumbling steps at the base of the tree as Mac gets down. His limp is more pronounced now, one heavy footfall followed by the swishing drag of his injured leg through the leaves. He trudges back gingerly, dropping down beside the phone with a grunt.

 

“I am... not doing that again,” Mac sighs.

 

But what he saw in the fading daylight is enough information. Mac can make out their command cabin in the distance and track smoke from the ambush site at his northeast. There’s a water tower about two miles south, and the nearby river bends in just the right way for MacGyver to describe.

 

Still, the agent’s words are drowsy and slurring by the end of his report. He’s shivering; Jack  can hear the chatter in his voice. They need to hurry.

 

Riley narrows it down on the map, and then the older agent is finally able to indulge in taking action. Already suited up, he snatches the last of his gear as the chopper blades warm.

 

Jack has a promise to keep. It’s time to go get his partner.

 

.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everybody who commented!! I was actually going to end it here, but your suggestions have added an entire third chapter - so keep em coming for the finale ♥ 
> 
> **Next Chapter:** Reunion… but will Jack be the first to get there?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for being awesome, guys. I have lots of MacGyver ideas and hope you’ll join me on another fic soon!!

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The sun is just starting to set, covering the helicopter in a rosy orange while dusk melts up the other side of the horizon. It would be a beautiful sight, but Jack never takes his eyes off the treeline below. Today the sunset is just another ticking clock.

 

The chopper sweeps past the ambush site, and Jack spots the bend in the river that Mac described. Close, they’re so damn close. Members of the Phoenix tactical team beside him shift slightly, soldiers quiet as the thudding blades fly them toward their stranded agent.

 

When they approach the exfil coordinates that Riley picked, Jack can just barely make out a flickering glow among the trees. It might have been a trick of the light if he hadn't known to look for it: Mac's little fire.

 

The older agent would have given his partner hell in any other situation.  _ "No fires after nightfall, dummy - might as well put a big neon arrow over your head. Didn't ya learn anything in spy school?" _

 

But this time, Jack is only worried. What state must Mac be in, that the warmth of a fire felt worth the risk? He tries not to think about the shiver in the injured agent’s voice, the way his words had drifted to a weak mumble by the end of the phone call. 

 

Mac knows better than to fall asleep; he’s vulnerable enough as it is. With any luck, the blonde will be waiting for the helicopter, ready for the rescue team to follow the telltale glimmer of the flames.

 

That's when Jack sees a different kind of flickering among the trees, shadowy shapes moving between greenery.

 

"Hostiles on the ground!" the soldier beside him calls out, fist tightening on a standard-issue rifle. The TAC team is suddenly alert, focus swerving to the enemies moving purposefully toward Mac’s coordinates.

 

Jack claps a firm hand across the barrel before the man can even lift the scope.  _ "Hold your fire, _ damn it. We can't engage from here, we might hit our own agent."

 

The soldier gives a sharp nod and doesn't seem to take the harsh words personally. They know what's at stake here, what’s on the line for Jack. And they know that the odds just stacked a little higher against Phoenix if the enemy has found Mac at the same time. 

 

Jack checks his vest, taps the pistol at his hip. He’s focused, not jittery, but can’t stop his hands from going over his gear one more time. The older agent has been powerless for too long - stuck in the cabin command room, on the wrong end of the phone line, and now in a metal bird above the action. He needs to do  _ something. _

 

The helicopter dips into a nearby field, rescue team jumping the last few feet as it hovers above the grass. Jack lands with a light-footed crunch in the foliage, senses switching to high gear as the adrenaline kicks in. 

 

Payload delivered, the chopper swoops up and out of firing range again. It will return when they’ve rescued their injured agent.

 

_ When. _ Not if.

 

As the sound of the blades pulls away, Jack can hear enemy boots trampling in the leaves, harsh voices shouting. There’s no more time to waste. He sprints toward the faint glow in the trees, toward Mac.

 

When they come across the first group of assailants, Jack doesn’t stop to get a headcount. He puts a bullet into one of them and slams another into a tree as he passes, trusting his backup to deal with the rest. 

 

Chattering bursts of gunfire sound from behind him, followed by the crashing grunts of close combat. Jack just keeps running.

 

The older agent can see the fire now, make out moving shapes as he gets closer. A few more yards, and Jack spots two men looming over a bloody, disheveled blonde. 

 

They’ve found him. 

 

Mac has his hands up in surrender as one of the men shoves a gun in his face. The pair gesture up at the copter, and Jack can just make out the word “hostage” as they argue with each other.

 

There’s still too many trees between them - no clear shot, too far away to risk hitting Mac. Jack pushes himself faster.

 

The two men order their prisoner to move and violently try to pull him to his feet. Mac is forced up, dizzy and sagging as he braces himself haltingly against a tree trunk. He can’t move as fast as they want, each change in motion making him tense further and resist his captors’ pull. One of them kicks at Mac’s leg in anger, and the blonde  _ screams  _ \- cringing forward over his wound anew.

 

“HEY!” Jack yells, too furious to hold back, and more than happy to divert their attention from his partner. Three heads snap in his direction.

 

Even through the blood-loss and wooziness, Mac reacts first. Just one look at Jack and the blonde drops, hands wrapping around the back of his head as he throws himself to the ground for cover. His captors are left standing, surprise turning to action too slowly.

 

It’s all the room the older agent needs. He brings his rifle up and unloads three shots into each man’s chest. Jack is at his partner’s side before their bodies hit the dirt. 

 

He crashes to his knees, one hand clasping Mac’s shoulder and the other going to the comm piece in his ear. 

 

“All stations, this is Alpha 1-6. I have agent in hand, repeat,  _ agent in hand _ .” The gunfire behind him has slowed, and the rest of the team will handle rendezvous coordinates. “Immediate area is secure for medical extraction. Get that bird back here Matty. Now.” Jack ignores the affirmative response, all his focus going to MacGyver.

 

The kid looks rough, paler than Jack has ever seen him. A dark smudge of dirt on Mac’s forehead just makes the skin beneath look worse. He’s clammy and shaking, small shivers rattling through his frame even as he lies exhausted in the leaves.

 

“H-hey Jack. Excellent timing.”

 

The younger agent tries to sit up, clasping Jack’s hand for support. Mac groans as he’s pulled into a sitting position, and his partner is quick to wrap a firm arm around shuddering shoulders. Mac leans back heavily against Jack’s chest, too weak to raise himself any further. 

 

“Easy there buddy, I gotcha.” The older agent releases Mac’s grip to help adjust his position.

 

Jack’s palm comes away from the touch in bright red, smeared with the younger agent’s blood. He realizes Mac’s hands are coated in it, rusty red painting his fingertips and smudged across his arms. Sticky sap and pine needles prick into the agent’s skin in places, with bark scrapes scattered up his sleeves. Mac cradles his hands away from his chest.

 

Jack carefully reaches for his partner’s wrist, turning over a loosely curled palm. Mac hisses with the motion, and the older agent winces at what it reveals.

 

The kid’s hands are shredded. Jack has a striking memory of snapping branches, clattering debris, and Mac’s shout of pain. That skid down the side of the tree was more than enough to tear up the skin and drive splinters deep into the calluses of his palms.

 

The younger agent’s movements are slow, tentative as he unfolds the broken skin for Jack to inspect. The damage doesn’t look irreparable, but damn it must hurt like hell. Grit and dirt is hopelessly embedded in the myriad of cuts across Mac’s hands, patches of raw skin glistening. His fingers are cold and shaking - a far cry from the steady grip of an EOD tech.

 

Then, Jack’s eyes travel down to Mac’s leg...

 

“Oh  _ Mac.” _

 

One of his pant legs is gone, cut off just above the gory mess at his knee. Strips of the fabric serve as makeshift bandages for his bullet extractions, and Mac’s belt has been hitched across his thigh in a weak attempt to stem the bleeding. Based on the spreading red stains, it doesn’t look like the leather made much of a difference.

 

The worst of it though is the wobbly line of stitches that cross the deepest cut. Tucked beneath the bend of his knee, the sutures are distinctly uneven; varying lengths pulled too tight or too loose across the wound. It’s nothing like the usual neat row Mac manages. The skin below the fishing line is swollen and red, still covered in drying blood that trickles all the way to his ankle.

 

Mac lets out a heavy breath and drops his head back against the older agent’s shoulder. Clearly the kid doesn’t want to look at the wound anymore, and Jack tears his gaze away from the damaged leg to look at his partner’s face.

 

His blue eyes are glassy, the delicate bottom lids looking puffy and sore from what can only be tears. Mac blinks, too slowly, and Jack taps lightly at one cheek to get him to focus. The younger agent groans.

 

“Don’t worry now, stretcher’s on its way,” Jack says. “You just relax with me for a bit and stay awake, alright?”

 

Mac mumbles something, the last of his strength seeming to bleed away now that he’s in good hands. Jack can’t make out the words, leaning closer.

 

All at once, his partner tangles a hand into Jack’s tac vest, fingers clumsy even as they grip tight. He’s not pulling, not really, just tethering the two of them together.

 

“Thank you,” Mac breathes. “For the phone call. And- and for coming to get me.” The younger agent sounds exhausted, but continues to search Jack’s face for approval.  “I got up the tree, just like you asked…”

 

Jack can’t answer at first, taken aback by the sincerity in Mac’s voice. Half-delirious and beaten bloody, the kid still has that unshakable faith that Jack will be there for him. That his partner will get there in time.

 

Even with Mac in his arms now, Jack feels like he’s late.

 

“Y-yeah. You did great, really great, helping us find you.” Jack carefully dislodges the younger agent’s fist from his vest, hoping the handhold hasn’t damaged stiff and swollen fingers any further. He pulls Mac a bit closer in exchange, trying to offer what little comfort he can before the extract team arrives. “I’ve got you, bud.”

 

Mac shifts. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna sleep now,” he murmurs, lashes fluttering as his body melts into limpness.

 

“No, hey no you can’t sleep yet.” Jack sits forward, bringing them both more upright as he carefully jostles Mac. “Wakey wakey.”

 

“But-”

 

“I’m not messing around dude, you gotta stay awake for me. Just ‘til we get you on the chopper to see the good doctor.”

 

Mac huffs, opening his eyes far enough to narrow them at his partner. His brows draw together in a weak parody of annoyance. “You’ve been very bossy today, Jack.”

 

The older agent snorts at the chastising tone. Still got some sass, apparently. It’s a good reminder that Mac’s going to be okay - that under all that blood and bruises, his partner will be ready to banter and tease and take on the world again soon. 

 

Helicopter blades thud nearby, returning to collect Phoenix’s injured agent and get him the medical attention he needs. Mac is  _ safe now _ , and Jack finally lets out a breath of relief.

 

“Yeah well I’m just looking out for you, brother.”

 

There’s a pause, and for a moment Jack thinks maybe Mac has passed out anyway. But then he catches a soft answer, voice warm even through the exhaustion.

 

“...You always do.”

 

.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Soooo… what should I write next:**  
>  Mac and Jack kidnapped by Murdoc, who hurts one to get at the other  
>  **\- OR -** Fluffy oneshot with Riley, where Mac and Jack are loopy from knockout gas?


End file.
